


June and July Fic Collection

by glimmerglanger



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: ABO mentions, Darksiders - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mirror Universe, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage, Tags only apply to some chapters, Throne Sex, Virginity Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: Collected prompt fills and fics from tumblr for June and July. So far, prompts related to "Through a Glass, Darkly." Very spicy. Also some Codywan.Individual chapters come with their own warnings and pairing tags, so everyone knows what they're getting.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 31
Kudos: 398





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first one was a request for Mirror!Anakin/Mirror!Obi-Wan, with Mirror!Obi roleplaying Prime!Obi. The smut of it developed some intense feelings along the way, because I can't help myself.

Being home was a relief for, oh, so many reasons. Anakin barely had time to enjoy the feeling of no longer being out of place for days, but the initial madness of the… change in leadership passed, eventually, giving way to calmer days. To structure and order. To the ability to track Obi-Wan down into their new rooms - spacious and beautiful - and to find him staring out across the Coruscanti skyline, his expression distant, a glass of wine held in one hand.

Anakin stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. His hair caught the fading light of the sun, spilling over one shoulder in waves. He felt, through their connection, almost wistful. Thoughtful. He said, without looking, “Are you going to come in?”

Anakin grinned, drawn to him - ever drawn to him, Obi-Wan was the gravity that kept him from spiraling off, becoming irrevocably lost, he knew that - and grabbing the other glass set on Obi-Wan’s desk, left there for him. He drank it in one long swallow and sat it down again, emptied. He said, probing Obi-Wan’s feelings once more to be sure, “You’re thinking about the other world again.”

“Just a bit,” Obi-Wan said, glancing at him. “I wonder if they’re doing well.”

“I’m sure they are,” Anakin said, shrugging. He could never understand how Obi-Wan found the time to  _ care  _ about so many other people. It was a trick Anakin had never managed. He cared mostly about  _ Obi-Wan _ .

“Mm,” Obi-Wan said, swirling the wine in his cup absently. He’d likely not drink it, Anakin knew. He disliked feeling… less than in control of his thoughts, and ever had. Anakin reached out, taking it from him, using the Force to deposit it on the desk as Obi-Wan looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, darling?” he asked, when Anakin moved closer, boxing him in against the window, tilting his chin up and ducking to kiss him.

Obi-Wan made a pleased sound, sliding his fingers into Anakin’s hair, sweet and welcoming. Anakin felt warm beneath his skin, ready to tug Obi-Wan over to their new bed, when he shifted back. He thought, briefly, of their doubles, and said, with a grin, “I bet they’re not doing this.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asked, cocking his head to the side, his mouth reddened by Anakin’s attentions, distractingly so.

Anakin nodded, memories of those mad few days moving through his mind. “Yes. They weren’t… like us. The other you,” he said, thinking of that Obi-Wan, with his soft, blue eyes and his constant surprise at Anakin’s affection, “he’d never even taken a lover.”

“Had he not?” Obi-Wan was watching him, sharply, something curious and intent in his expression. It was an expression that made Anakin feel like he had the entirety of Obi-Wan’s focus, always his favorite state of being. He shivered with hot delight when Obi-Wan’s mouth curved, when he asked, trailing fingers down Anakin’s neck, “Did you endeavor to help him with that?”

Anakin thought of the few kisses and embraces they’d shared. He shrugged. “I offered, to see what he’d do. He seemed not interested.” Well, some part of him had been, but not the part that made decisions. And Anakin may have been many things, but…

He’d not force a lover.

Obi-Wan hummed, hand sliding over Anakin’s shoulder, down onto his chest. He said, soft and low, “How did you ask?”

Anakin shifted, responding to a shift in Obi-Wan’s emotions, a spike in his arousal. His cock, half-hard since he’d taken a kiss, twitched. He said, leaning a little closer, “I told him I could make him feel good. That I knew all the things he’d like.”

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched, just for a moment. He blinked, gaze cutting to the side, emotions doing something Anakin could not quite discern as he said, “And then…?”

“And then he’d get stiff and unsure,” Anakin murmured. “Like he didn’t know what to do with the want he felt. The desire.” Obi-Wan looked up at him, then, expression changed in an instant, to something… hesitant. Wanting and confused, all at once. Anakin sucked in a breath, aching, all at once, and said, “Yes, like that.”

“Did he say,” Obi-Wan said, shifting, as though suddenly less than comfortable with the way Anakin had boxed him in against the wall. He wetted his lips, his tone changing when he spoke again, to something unsure. Something careful. “Perhaps you should - should let me go. My Anakin and I--” and  _ oh _ , it was stunning, how closely he could mimic the other him, having never seen him, perhaps it was something intrinsic to them “--we don’t…”

Anakin glanced down at the hand on his chest, heart beating faster, cock aching as Obi-Wan looked to the side, a  _ blush  _ on his cheeks. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Obi-Wan blush, before. Not his Obi-Wan. And this was - was some kind of game, he supposed. A gift, maybe, for him. He ignored the hand on his chest, leaning closer, instead, close enough to brush his lips against Obi-Wan’s ear, to murmur, “Perhaps I should keep you right here.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, even as his breath grew faster. “Oh,” he said, “no, that’s--”

“I’ll make it feel so good for you,” Anakin cut in, tone low and full of promise, listening to Obi-Wan’s breath come faster. He ducked his head, just a bit further, enough to brush his lips across the soft skin at the hinge of Obi-Wan’s jaw, more than happy to run with this, if it were a game Obi-Wan wanted to play. “Come on. I know what you want. Let me show you.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers clenched in the front of his robes, no longer so much pushing. He  _ squirmed  _ against the wall, swallowing audibly when he said, “I shouldn’t--”

“You should.” Anakin slid a hand down, off the wall, across Obi-Wan’s tunics before he could slip to the side, pressing against the hard swell of his cock. Anakin’s mouth quirked into a smile and he lifted his head, catching Obi-Wan’s eyes. “You  _ want  _ to. I  _ certainly  _ want to. Let me.”

Obi-Wan looked stunned, half-dazed. Anakin leaned closer, a breath away from his mouth, from taking a kiss he craved in his bones, and said, “Please.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered. He jerked his head in a small nod, gasping, nearly, “Yes, I--yes.” And perhaps he would have said more, but Anakin knew when to press an advantage. He shifted close enough to taste his mouth, to kiss him, starting slow, as though Obi-Wan didn’t  _ know  _ how to be kissed filthily - not yet.

He made delightful little sounds, soft and stunned, still gripping onto Anakin as though he did not know what to do with his hands. His hips twitched, restlessly, though he kept - kept catching himself and holding still.

It poured fire down Anakin’s spine; he kept his touch light, easy over the fabric, until the sounds Obi-Wan was making got more desperate, until he gripped at Anakin’s shoulder, trying to pull him closer, and Anakin almost brought him over the edge there, against the windows, in his robes, but--

But he’d promised to make this nice. He’d promised to make it  _ good _ , all the things he knew Obi-Wan liked. The thought of that left him aching with want, and he eased back, listening to Obi-Wan make a sweet, aching sound of protest, listening to him gasp, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you somewhere better suited to our purposes,” Anakin said, drawing him along, keeping him close, stealing touches that resulted in Obi-Wan’s tunic sliding down to the floor. He shivered, though their rooms were not cold, grabbing at Anakin’s wrist when he reached for the undershirt.

“Hey,” Anakin said, smiling at him, cupping his jaw, “you’ll like this more without fabric in the way. I promise.”

Obi-Wan watched him, for a heartbeat, and then nodded, nodded and let Anakin take him out of his clothes, standing there looking unsure, afterwards, as though he did not  _ know  _ how stunning he was, as though he’d somehow forgotten how much Anakin wanted to touch every inch of him, pull him close and take him--

Anakin swallowed, shrugged off his own shirt and tossed it aside, watching Obi-Wan’s gaze move across his skin, watching his hands twitch. Anakin stepped close, resting hands on his hips, feeling Obi-Wan  _ jump _ , and murmured, as though Obi-Wan did not already know, “You can touch me, too, you know.”

Obi-Wan’s breath came out shaky, but he put hands on Anakin’s skin, if only to hold on as Anakin kissed him again, kissed him until he almost melted, and only then did Anakin nudge him back the last step and send him toppling down to the mattress.

He looked gorgeous sprawled there, skin pale against garnet red sheets, fingers clenched in the blankets, looking as though he didn’t know what to do with his legs. “Relax,” Anakin said, hand on one knee, possessive, pushing his leg to the side. “You’re going to love this.”

“I don’t--” Obi-Wan started, and stopped, the words strangled off, when Anakin put a hand on his stomach, holding down, and curled over him. There was so much skin to touch, to kiss, but Anakin knew where all the places were that made Obi-Wan’s back arch, that made his breath get fast and shaky, that made him  _ writhe _ .

The other Obi-Wan, he hadn’t… had all the marks Anakin’s Obi-Wan bore. But his skin had been the same, pale and freckled, soft. The most pleasant thing Anakin had ever touched, and he put his full concentration into touching, until Obi-Wan was pleading, “Please, please, I need--”

“Sh,” Anakin hummed, mouth over his hip, one hand closed around his wrist because he would not be still, the other gripping his thigh. “I know exactly what you need.”

And the sharp cry drawn from his lips, when Anakin licked the head of his cock was like music, like a gift. Anakin smiled, but only for a moment, wetting his lips and sliding  _ down _ . He knew the taste of Obi-Wan’s skin, the weight of his cock.

Obi-Wan reached a hand down, almost touching his hair, stopping, hesitant, and  _ oh _ , he was ever so good, whining and shifting his hips as Anakin took him apart just so. His voice broke, at the end, all the muscles his body tightening, and Anakin swallowed, licked him clean, only lifted his head when he felt satisfied with his work.

Obi-Wan sprawled across the sheets, looking dazedly up at the ceiling, flushed halfway down his chest. Anakin gazed at him for a moment, drinking in the contentment, the relaxation, shifting to lean over him, so he could take a kiss, slow and lazy, one of Obi-Wan’s arms curling around his shoulders.

He lingered - Obi-Wan  _ liked  _ kissing, something that it had taken Anakin a long time to discover - only moving again when his jaw ached. Obi-Wan made a soft sound as he shifted and said, panting, “I should - I can, for you--”

“Perhaps later,” Anakin said, stretching out a hand towards their bedside table. “I’m not done with you.”

Obi-Wan pushed up on one elbow, looking delightfully rumpled. Debauched. He said, glancing down, “I think you may be, I’m--”

“I know you,” Anakin said, closing his fingers around the little vial he’d drawn across the room, smirking. “Remember?” He ran his hand down Obi-Wan’s side, down his thigh, pulling his leg to the side. Obi-Wan watched him with wide, wide eyes as he opened the vial and coated his fingers.

“I… what are you doing?” he asked, tensing across his shoulders, as though he truly didn’t know, as though he didn’t often  _ beg _ \-- Anakin leaned over him, kissed him, once, nipping at his bottom lip. And then he put a hand on Obi-Wan’s chest and pushed him down, using enough force to hold him in place.

“Trust me,” he said, trailing slick fingers across Obi-Wan’s hip, past his cock - which twitched - and  _ back _ .

Obi-Wan stared up at him, eyes huge, pupils blown, and said, “I do.”

And Anakin swallowed, heavily, because - because he did not know, in that moment, if they were still playing and found that he hoped - hoped that they weren’t, or at least not all the way and - and he pushed a little harder on Obi-Wan’s ribs, preparing for him to attempt to bow up. He tried to come up off of the mattress, when Anakin pressed a finger inside him, his hand coming up to grip at Anakin’s arm, a sound torn from his throat.

“It’s alright,” Anakin said, moving slow but sure, crooning down to him, nearly, “it’s alright, dear one, relax.”

“I’ve never--” Obi-Wan gasped, holding onto Anakin like an anchor, muscles jumping underhand.

“I know,” Anakin murmured, looking down, watching where his hand worked, his gut aching and tight. They’d--it was--someone had first touched his Obi-Wan like this years before Anakin was even  _ born _ . But then it - it hadn’t been  _ quite  _ like this, Anakin knew. There’d been no soft murmurs to assure him it would be fine, no concern that it be good--

Anakin shook his head, chasing the thoughts away. He wanted, he found, to do this for Obi-Wan. Not even the other Obi-Wan, the game all in tatters around them, fallen away as he murmured, “It feels good, doesn’t it?” Obi-Wan hesitated; when Anakin glanced at him, he’d turned almost scarlet. Anakin crooked his finger, felt him jerk, and asked, “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sounded surprised, stunned. “Oh, Force.”

Anakin’s breath caught, feeling the tight heat of him. He squirmed, when Anakin worked another finger into him, wriggled and gasped, even as his cock hardened, giving away all his secrets. Anakin dragged it out, made it slow, perhaps as slow as ever he had, hoarding each sound Obi-Wan made, wanting them all for himself.

Especially the soft, confused, protesting sound he made when Anakin drew his fingers out, wiping them absently on the sheets. He said, “What’re--”

“ _ Trust _ me,” Anakin said, moving closer, all the wants he’d been restraining clamoring for attention. He’d forced himself to wait for as long as he could conceivably manage, he needed--needed to hook an arm under Obi-Wan’s knee, needed to grind against him, once, cock sliding on slick skin.

“Oh, I can’t,” Obi-Wan panted, gripping at his bicep, other hand on his shoulder, sounding--

Sounding unnerved, and Anakin looked at him, into his expression, seeing things there he was almost sure weren’t part of the game, seeing things he knew he’d felt from Obi-Wan, more than once, on the worst night, and said, “You can, I promise.”

Obi-Wan’s breathing had gone shaky. His fingertips pressed against Anakin’s skin. Anakin shifted, reached out, stroked his hair back, brushed a thumb across the line of his cheek and said, “I’m not going to hurt you, dear one. I’m going to make you feel so very good.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, wide-eyed, before nodding, permission and trust in his eyes and--and Anakin held his gaze even as he pushed forward, sliding  _ in _ , watching Obi-Wan’s expression change with it, feeling his grip get tighter, saying, softly, “Breathe, dear one.”

Focusing on Obi-Wan, on the way he sucked in a breath, made the tight, hot pleasure of sinking into him sharper, somehow. Anakin felt it through every nerve in his body, their connection singing in the Force and through their skin. He sank himself deep, panting as he bottomed out, and found his words escaping him.

He’d lied, a bit, he found. He knew this position not to be Obi-Wan’s favorite. It wasn’t the one that left him crying out ragged, as often as not. But--but Anakin wanted to see his face, it felt--important, somehow, to look at him as Anakin set a rhythm, each thrust of his hips drawing sounds from Obi-Wan’s throat.

Anakin fucked the tension from his shoulders. The grip of Obi-Wan’s hands on him went from bracing to desperate. He clung, crying out, when Anakin put a hand on his cock, working him in relentless, perfect rhythm, just how he liked it, just how he needed it, just the way he deserved and--

And deep, sweet satisfaction unfurled in Anakin’s chest when Obi-Wan bowed up beneath him, spilling hot over his fingers, body shivering and - and Anakin knew how sensitive he was going to be, knew the sounds he’d make when Anakin fucked him through it, and each one felt like a balm to his soul.

Obi-Wan panted his name, voice cracking, holding onto him like a drowning man, still shaking all over when Anakin finally lost the last threads of his control. He collapsed down onto one arm, pleasure leaving him all lit up on the inside, panting hard.

They lay there, all pressed together, and quiet. He could feel, through their connection, a strange sort of… grief, almost, bleeding across from Obi-Wan. An old sadness, something deep and cold as space. Anakin could guess at its source.

He knew most of Obi-Wan’s secrets. Most of his old hurts.

He said, carefully, stroking a hand back over Obi-Wan’s hair, as gentle as he knew how to be, “I’m sorry. I wish I had been able to give that to you.”

Obi-Wan made a sharp little sound, wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down, his other arm curled around Anakin’s ribs. He pressed his face against Anakin’s shoulder, his breathing unsteady, wet and hitching and--

And Anakin swallowed, hard, holding him close, his heart aching in his chest when Obi-Wan rasped, against his skin, “You have.”


	2. Prime!Obikin, bruising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request for Prime!Obi-Wan getting the chance to discover how he felt about getting marked up, a bit.

The other Obi-Wan had worn marks across his skin, ever so many of them that Anakin’s Obi-Wan didn’t bear. Anakin hadn’t cared for most of them, the brand on his neck, the scars across his back. But some of them had been…

Infinitely more palatable.

Anakin had never ever really considered leaving, well,  _ marks  _ behind on a partner before. It wasn’t-- Everything before had seemed transient, brief connections with others, there and gone before he could catch them back.

The Jedi were not supposed to have attachments, were not supposed to hold too tightly to people or things or--

Besides, he hadn’t particularly wanted to - to put a mark on anyone else. Something of him, left behind even when they weren’t touching or even when they weren’t in the same room - on the same planet.

But he knew exactly what the shape of his fingers looked like on Obi-Wan’s skin, he knew the way Obi-Wan’s pale skin would stain darker, even if he didn’t know, exactly, how much pressure it would require.

He found himself considering it as they stood at Council meetings, as they attended parades, as they curled together to sleep, as he brushed kisses across skin. It amused him, drawing a smile from him when he considered it, that thus far Obi-Wan had been the only one to leave marks, the rasp of his beard reddening Anakin’s skin, here and there and--

And, well, Anakin did not really understand what his double had disliked about the sensation. He enjoyed it. But then, he enjoyed all the things they did, treasuring each touch as something precious and brand new. 

The reddened skin usually disappeared quickly, and Obi-Wan apologized each time he caused it, gaze shifting to the side and back again, until the time Anakin stretched out across the sheets, feeling exquisite and relaxed and they should have been doing this for  _ ages, _ he felt so much more at peace with - with everything in the universe, and said, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, frowning, as though he were going to go right on being sorry, no matter what Anakin said. “I don’t want to harm you.”

Anakin snorted a laugh at him. “It doesn’t hurt.” Compared to everything that had been thrown at Anakin, a little beard burn barely registered. Obi-Wan sighed, and Anakin, feeling good and loose and reckless, added, “I like it. The way it feels. The way it looks.”

And that got Obi-Wan’s attention. He turned, abandoning his quest to find his tunic, and said, “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Anakin pushed up onto his elbows, looking Obi-Wan up and down. The flush that tended to spread down his chest when they were enjoying themselves had already faded away, leaving him looking… almost untouched, save a few smears of wet across his skin. But Anakin could imagine, perfectly, a mark set at his collarbone and stains of color at his hips, and-- He asked, voice gone hoarse, “Do you think you would?”

Some of the flush came back to Obi-Wan’s face. He blinked, and then flashed a brilliant smile. “You don’t have a beard, Anakin.” They never discussed the one time Anakin had attempted to grow one. Some things were best left unmentioned.

“True,” Anakin said, sitting and reaching out from Obi-Wan, drawing him closer. “But,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s ribs, hands settling at his waist. “I have other options for leaving marks.” He heard Obi-Wan’s breath hitch, just a little, as Obi-Wan slid fingers into his hair. “If you’d like.”

“I can’t say I’ve thought about it,” Obi-Wan said, voice a rasp as Anakin tugged on him again, drawing him back down to their bunk, blood burning hotter the longer he thought about the subject. “Where would you--oh,” Obi-Wan gripped at him when Anakin twisted them down, turning his attentions to all the smooth, welcoming skin open to his attentions.

“I see you have some ideas,” Obi-Wan said, sounding amused and fond, hands moving over Anakin’s shoulders.

“A few.” Anakin kissed the line of his neck, thought about a mark right  _ there _ , high, where everyone would be able to see it, even over the edge of Obi-Wan’s neckline, and shivered. They’d only just worn themselves out, but he felt… more than ready to give it another go. 

“Alright.” Obi-Wan shifted across the sheets, one hand sliding down Anakin’s side, curling around, fingers curling loosely around him. 

And Anakin managed to ask, through the increasing distraction through his mind, “Alright?”

“Show me what you’re thinking,” he said, as though all Anakin had to do was ask--

Which, Anakin had come to realize, had been true for so much between them. Anakin muffled a sound against Obi-Wan’s skin, and shifted his attentions just a bit, because - because they had to meet with a Senatorial delegation later and he didn’t want Obi-Wan to feel awkward.

But he ended up not going far, trailing kisses until he reached a spot that drew a sudden noise from Obi-Wan’s throat, that had him tilting his head up a bit, grip tightening on Anakin. And it was all the direction Anakin needed to linger, skin getting hot under his mouth, thinking about marks and beautiful colors and Obi-Wan’s hand, moving over him, which he reached down and dragged away after a moment, because he wanted--

He wanted to shift, to push up enough to ask, “Can I?” because Obi-Wan was likely tender and--

“By all means, please do,” Obi-Wan panted back, and Anakin swore, pushing up onto one arm, reaching down to grip himself and freezing, for a moment, at the mark he’d left behind, stained such a dark red it already looked purple in the middle, and, oh, he didn’t know yet if Obi-Wan liked it, but  _ he  _ did.

“Force,” he panted, want beating through him as he pushed forward, listening to the sounds Obi-Wan made, watching him scramble at the blankets, his eyes dazed and pleasure drunk. Anakin watched him, hungry for all the sights, before he could bear it no longer and curled back over, setting his mouth to Obi-Wan’s skin, wanting to leave behind-- 

By the time they rolled from the bed, so much later they ran the risk of missing their meeting with the Senators, there was a trail of marks across Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Anakin rushed through the sonic shower, trying not to think about them, but that was difficult when he stepped out to find Obi-Wan in the fresher, head cocked to the side as he looked in the mirror, his fingers pushing against one of the marks.

Anakin’s breath caught and held, because Obi-Wan’s expression was curious, considering. Anakin looked away; they couldn’t afford to get distracted again. They could discuss it later, they could--

“I like them,” Obi-Wan said, taking Anakin’s mind so swiftly offline that he only just avoided walking into the doorframe. He twisted around to look, finding Obi-Wan smiling at him, looking relaxed and content and, well. 

The Senators, Anakin decided, could wait. Just a little longer.


	3. Prime!Team and Mirror!Team meet again, briefly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet/request from over on tumblr for Through a Glass, Darkly

The destruction of the lower levels of the Temple left behind a lot of clean-up work. Sometimes, it seemed as though they’d never stop shifting through the rubble. The work went slowly, painstakingly, even with many of the troopers volunteering to help; they’d been released from their service, shortly after Palpatine’s death, and finding places for them all to go was  _ also  _ proving to be a time-consuming process, but…

But it felt right to be doing it, to helping them find places to go, giving them the opportunities they deserved to build lives for themselves.

So many had decided to stay, lingering around the Temple, assisting with the work. It was one of Obi-Wan’s men - one of the troopers who had  _ been  _ his men - who discovered the strange spheres, each roughly big enough to be held in the palm of the hand, terribly cold.

There was an entire pile of the things, buried in the rubble. “Thought you’d want to know about them, Sir,” Gripper said, ignoring all instructions that he did not have to call Obi-Wan “sir” anymore. “They give me a bad feeling.”

Obi-Wan looked at them, felt a chill down his back, and said, “Good job.”

#

The Council catalogued the spheres, as they’d cataloged so much else they’d pulled out of the rubble. There were things down there they’d never even contemplated, many of them unnerving and radiating the power of the Dark.

Obi-Wan walked past the halls where they were trying to clean the items, or at least remove the dangers they posed, and shuddered each time.

He left the spheres with the Masters in those halls, nodded his greetings to them, and made his way back to his quarters, to find---

Anakin, stepping out of the fresher, wearing nothing but a towel slung around his waist, looking up to say, “Obi-Wan! There you are, I was about to come looking for you.”

“No need for that,” Obi-Wan said, managing a tired smile. He ached all over, and raised an eyebrow when Anakin moved towards him, drawing him close despite Obi-Wan’s protests that he was filthy, still.

“It’s alright,” Anakin said, shifting to brush a kiss across his mouth, “I’ll hop in the shower with you again.”

“Oh, will you?” Obi-Wan asked, knowing very well that their freshers barely held  _ one  _ person. “I’m not entirely sure you’ll fit.”

Anakin hooked fingers into his belt, took a step back, and tugged him along. “I’ll fit,” he said, smirking. “Don’t you remember?” Obi-Wan snorted a laugh at him, and shivered when Anakin helped peel off his robes, when he was urged under the spray, water slicking across his skin, and it turned out that there was just enough space for Anakin to push him against the tiled wall.

He panted, palms sliding across the wet tiles, as Anakin put hands on his hips and tilted him just so and his day had been long and stressful, but. But it ended quite nicely, for all of that. He wasn’t thinking of the spheres at all, by the time they collapsed onto their bunk and fell into dreams.

#

In fact, Obi-Wan didn’t think about the spheres again at all for days. 

Not until he woke up one night, feeling cold and out-of-sorts, and found Anakin standing in the middle of their quarters, holding one, a blank look on his face.

Obi-Wan sat up, heart thrumming along all at once. He said, rising from the sheets - which were cold, Anakin had been gone for some time, “Anakin?”

He received no answer, none at all, as he crossed the room on silent feet. He shivered in the cool air of their room, curling across his bare skin. Anakin had, at least, put on  _ some  _ clothing. That was a cold comfort as Obi-Wan got a look at his empty eyes and flat expression.

“Anakin?” he asked again, reaching out to touch him, finding him tensed but unmoving. “Can you hear me?” He got no response, and swallowed, reaching for a comm that he no longer wore even when asleep. It rested back on the nightstand.

Obi-Wan would grab it in a moment. First, he reached out, intending to take the sphere away from Anakin. He curled his hands around it, and--

\--and the world changed. 

#

Obi-Wan blinked into a brightly lit space. It was huge and airy. He could smell the sea, he thought. Birdsong filled the air. He blinked, and a very, very familiar voice said, “Ah, there you are.We were wondering when you would join us.”

Obi-Wan looked over towards his own voice, or a version of his own voice, anyway, and found… a man who looked very much like him, with longer hair and no beard, wearing a very fine robe of dark blue. It veed open most of the way down his chest.

He was seated at a large round table in the center of the strange chamber where Obi-Wan had ended up. There were a half-dozen chairs around it; they appeared to be carved of a pale wood. Beside the other Obi-Wan was… Shadow. He was bare-chested or, no, Obi-Wan realized after a moment, he was completely naked.

Then again, Obi-Wan could not begrudge him that. He was very aware of the chill on his skin, and of his Anakin, crossing towards him and peeling off his tunic as he came. Anakin said, “Here, put this on,” and proceeded to wrap the fabric around Obi-Wan’s waist, casting a dark look over his shoulder, towards Shadow. 

“What’s going on?” Obi-Wan asked, around Anakin’s shoulder. “Where are we?”

His double shrugged. “We don’t know. Am I right in supposing that you, perhaps, touched a device of some kind? Small and round?”

Obi-Wan could feel a headache building in the back of his skull. “We did,” he said, sighing. “Wonderful.” He frowned over at Anakin. “Why did you pick it up, anyway?”

He shrugged, stil scowling at his double. “I don’t even remember doing it.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Even better,” his double said.

#

Obi-Wan hoped, vaguely, that they would be thrown out of the strange meeting space as abruptly as they’d arrived. Unfortunately, that seemed not to be. Time passed, without any sign of change to their surroundings. The level of light remained consistent, the bird song repeated. 

There seemed to be no way  _ out  _ of the chamber. The windows were not large enough to permit them to exit and there were no doors. Nor was there any food or drink. Only the table and the chairs.

Obi-Wan wandered over to one of the windows, eventually, listening to the Anakins argue with one another across the room. He braced a hand on the wall, frowning out over distant waves far below, trying to figure out a way out of this room, back to their bodies. A chill stole across his skin, after a moment, and he looked up in time to find his double approaching.

It was strange to see golden eyes in his own face. It was a nightmare he’d had, more than once. He’d been able to imagine what it would be like, to fall to the Dark. He’d expected something… besides this man before him, who looked him up and down before saying, “So, I suppose he took what he wanted then, finally.”

Obi-Wan looked down at his own body, suddenly very aware of the evidence of...the previous night’s activities. He said, raising his chin, “What?”

“Your Anakin,” his double said, leaning a shoulder against the wall, gazing out through the window. “You’re welcome, by the way. I told him he ought to, but he was so convinced you didn’t love him.” He snorted.

Obi-Wan swallowed, looking to the side, setting aside the urge to bristle. He said, “I’ve loved him, one way or another, for as long as I can remember.”

“I know.” His double’s voice had grown softer, fond, almost. He smiled across at Obi-Wan, and there were things Obi-Wan wanted to ask him, questions about - about what it felt like to give in to those Dark urges that tickled at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind, but…

But he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers. He looked away, instead, at the same moment his double did. And said, at the same time. “Does your Anakin--”

They looked back at one another. Some sharp amusement blossomed in Obi-Wan’s chest when he said, in echo with his double,”With his--? When he?” They both nodded, and Obi-Wan snorted a laugh, his double finishing, “I thought so.”

Obi-Wan glanced away, across at Anakin and Shadow, who were gesturing around. They appeared to be mimicking lightsaber strikes. “What do you think they’re talking about?” he asked, and his double shrugged.

“Shall we find out?”

#

It turned out that they were discussing the fall of their respective Emperors. “Ah,” Obi-Wan said, catching the end of the conversation and nodding at Shadow, a greeting just for the two of them, “so you were strong enough, then, after all?”

Shadow flashed him that sharp smile of his, the one Anakin never quite wore. “He was a fool,” he said. “Let me walk right up to him. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

Obi-Wan’s double hummed, one eyebrow arching, “Likely that you’d desire ruling at his side.”

“Why rule at his,” Shadow said, gaze on Obi-Wan’s double, expression shifting as though he’d shut out all others in the room, “when I could rule at yours?”

Obi-Wan looked away, catching Anakin’s eye and then his arm, pulling him to the side a bit. Their doubles seemed… preoccupied, for the moment.

#

“So, you’re really Emperor now, huh,” Anakin said, sometime later. They’d ended up seated in a rough circle near one wall, the sea breeze blowing across them. Neither hunger nor thirst seemed to exist in this place, nor exhaustion. They just… continued.

“I am,” Obi-Wan’s double said. He was absently carding fingers through Shadow’s hair, Shadow’s head resting in his lap. Obi-Wan’s fingers itched with the desire to do the same, but Anakin was leaning against the wall beside him and he was - honestly - not sure if that were… permitted between them.

They were still learning one another, in so many ways. Anakin  _ had  _ trusted him enough to ask him for help when his nightmares returned, but…

“And the…” Anakin hesitated, looking to one side. “The rebels. How’s that situation going?”

Obi-Wan’s double shrugged. “Progress is being made,” he said, mouth quirking up quickly. “The friend you spoke of, Amidala, she’s quite outspoken.”

“That’s one word for her,” Shadow grumbled, and Obi-Wan’s double smiled down at him, such open fondness in the expression that it made Obi-Wan ache inside his chest. Shadow turned his head to the side and asked, “What about you, the war all over? You’re safe?”

Obi-Wan nodded as Anakin reached out and took his hand. “Yes,” he said. “It appears we are.” He shifted, stretching one leg out, and said, “Do you believe--”

He never got to finish the question. The world shimmered, all at once, as though he were about to lose consciousness. When it solidified again, a moment later, he was in his quarters at the Temple, swaying on his feet.

“--eral?” a familiar voice was asking. There were hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He blinked across at Cody’s concerned expression. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head to try to bring sense back into it. He felt dizzy and exhausted. Across the floor, all around him, were shattered shards of stone. Anakin swayed next to him, and Obi-Wan reached out to grab him, ignoring, for the moment, the many Jedi and troopers jammed into the small space. “What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Master Unduli said, stepping up from the side. Someone had, Obi-Wan noticed with relief, draped a robe around his shoulders, so at least he was not naked. “We found you both in here, touching some kind of sphere. We could not get you to release it, so…”

She glanced towards Cody, who shrugged. “So we shot it, sir.”

“Good thinking,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan snorted a laugh, thinking about meeting his double, about another life neither of them would live, and shaking his head.


	4. Mirror!Obikin, breaking in the new throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt (Through a Glass, Darkly). Obikin. Mature.

Obi-Wan ordered the old throne - the one that Palpatine had sat in countless times, hands gripping the armrests as he leaned forward, eager to see whatever cruel entertainment he’d ordered as a distraction - removed and melted.

He had it carried out quietly, with no great show. There were enough of those, currently. The removal of the, frankly, ugly throne passed without notice. He might have foregone adding another - it was not like he had time to sit down, anyway - had not Anakin insisted that he required one.

Obi-Wan, focusing on maintaining control over the Empire in the midst of the exchange of power, gave him full permission to acquire a new one. He put the entire issue out of his mind, and so was surprised the first time he stepped into the throne room to find….

Well, it was definitely a throne. All in gold, so polished that it caught the lights around the room, almost seeming to glow. The lines of it were softer than the previous throne. It did not give the impression that it would cut you if you sat upon it without care.

Anakin had followed him into the chamber and curled him into an embrace, mouth near Obi-Wan’s ear when he murmured, “It suits you, I think.”

Obi-Wan glanced sideways towards him, unsure if Anakin were making a joke. He felt deeply unsure how such a grandiose thing suited him, exactly, but Anakin did not feel sharp or mocking through their bond. That was not the feeling he gave off at all, as he nudged Obi-Wan forward, saying, “Come on, try it.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I am expected in--”

“Just let me see you on it,” Anakin said, voice warm and rough. “Just for a moment.”

And Obi-Wan gave in. He usually did. He sighed and ascended the few steps to the throne, hesitating with one hand stretched towards the arm of it. He’d never sat in the other throne, as such. But he had been on his knees before it, and--

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, concern in his tone, all at once, and Obi-Wan shook himself, turned, and sat. The past was gone and burned. Nothing but ashes, blown away. It had no hold on him. He refused to allow it.

The metal of the throne felt cool, even through his clothes. There was no give to it. It was not built, he thought, for comfort. Still, he drew himself up, rested his arms, folded his legs, and raised an eyebrow at Anakin. “Well?” he asked. “Does it meet your standards for satisfaction?”

Anakin stared at him, gaze openly hungry, and said, “It might.”

He took one step forward and another, gaze dropping and rising again, want filling up the entirety of his signature in the Force. It hit Obi-Wan low in his gut, his pulse speeding in response, his body reacting. He’d never understood quite why Anakin wanted him, but--

But there was not the time to consider it, then, not with Anakin standing before him, leaning down and close, hand on Obi-Wan’s jaw as he took a kiss. “This is where you’re supposed to be,” Anakin rasped, pressing kisses across his skin, back towards his throat. “I knew it.”

Obi-Wan stifled a shiver down his spine. He said, “Oh?” He slid his hand into Anakin’s hair, holding on as his teeth grazed skin. “And where are you supposed to be?”

“Right here.” Anakin put hands on his legs, pushing them apart, thumbs high on the inside of Obi-Wan’s thighs. He slid his hands up, firm and utterly sure of himself, fingers tugging at the closures on Obi-Wan’s fine breeches, his breath hot on Obi-Wan’s neck when he said, “Let me show you.”

And Obi-Wan kept his fingers tangled in Anakin’s thick hair, even as Anakin sank down his body, even as Anakin pushed his thighs wider; necessary, to make room for Anakin’s shoulders. He watched, heart beating too fast, when Anakin knelt, and a protest caught in the back of his throat, because--

Because he did not--

But Anakin reached out, mechanical hand on the middle of Obi-Wan’s chest, pushing him back against the glowing throne, keeping Obi-Wan in place as he licked and sucked and-- 

And when he finished, looking up and licking his red mouth, Obi-Wan had to pull him close, kiss his mouth, and hold onto him, one more piece of the past burning away.


	5. Mirror!Obikin, Obi-Wan's past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt (Through a Glass, Darkly). Obi-Wan's past discussed. Warnings: dark and unhappy. Mentions of all kinds of child abuse. Dark!Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon Jinn was not the first man who died in front of Anakin. Tatooine was a brutal world, out on the edges of the Empire, unconquered in Anakin’s youth. He led the armies that brought it to heel as a young man - delivered Watto’s head to his mouth as a gift - but that was  _ later _ .

As a boy, he had been a slave. As a boy, he’d seen all the worst things the galaxy had to offer, experiencing some of them, when his mother had not been able to protect him, despite all her best efforts.

He might have experienced worse, had thought he would, with a large hand curled around his shoulder and a presence in the Force pressing at his mind, choking and terrible and--

And Qui-Gon Jinn was not the first man who died in front of Anakin, slumping down and to the side around a bloody red lightsaber blade. But he was the first that left Anakin feeling sickly relieved, dizzily grateful to the man standing before him.

The man had glowing golden eyes and copper hair and he said, “It’s alright, no one will hurt you. I’ll make sure of it.”

And Anakin believed him.

#

The first time Anakin wanted to kill a man was years later. Obi-Wan was as good as his word. He ever was, Anakin came to learn over the years. No one hurt him.

Anakin sometimes experienced pain, anyway. Over the coming years, he would occasionally wake up terrified and not sure why, phantom remnants of pain drifting across his skin. He didn’t realize the cause until he went looking for Obi-Wan - they did not share a room, not like so many others at the Temple - and found him retching into the toilet.

He flinched when Anakin touched his shoulder, looking up with wide eyes, all the emotions on his face tucked away quickly. He’d only shook his head when Anakin asked him what was wrong, sending Anakin back to his quarters to sleep.

Anakin had never had a bond with anyone before. He had not known that emotions might slip across it, not until he asked questions the next day. The Emperor was always happy to tell him things, no matter what he asked, and so he came to understand that the nightmares creeping through his mind were not his own.

And he came to understand exactly what they were about.

The Emperor stroked his hair, after explaining, and said, “He’s always been weak, you see. Soft. Everyone would understand, if you wished someone else to train you.” 

Anakin thought of Obi-Wan, the blood slicking down his face and the saber in his hand. He thought of the things Palpatine had told him, scowling, something angry and hot curling in his gut and up his spine, even as he moved away from Palpatine’s hand.

He was already thirteen, almost a man grown himself, and he disliked being touched like a pet. He was already thirteen, and had been beginning to wonder about certain… things, certain desires, that all felt twisted and wrong, after the things Palpatine had said to him.

He was glad, suddenly and fiercely, that Jinn was dead, wished only that he’d been the one to do it. Anakin said, “No. Definitely not.” It seemed fair to him that, if Obi-Wan was going to make sure no one hurt him, he ought to do the same.

#

The first time Anakin took a life without orders to do so, it was in the halls of the palace. Years had passed since his conversation with Palpatine, but he’d not forgotten. It was strange, the way it happened. He’d been in a delighted mood; he’d had Obi-Wan held close, backed against a wall so Anakin could taste the skin of his neck, and--

And an amused voice had interrupted them, a man had said, “Finally old enough to take over for Jinn, I see.”

Obi-Wan went very still, so still he could have been a statue or a corpse, eyes going curiously blank. The warmth of his emotions, previously curled so pleasantly around Anakin’s thoughts, turned cool and flat, retreating like a wave away from the shore.

The words had the opposite effect on Anakin. He turned, anger flaring hot and impossible down his spine, reaching a hand out and he didn’t even realize, truly, what he’d done until the man - a representative for one of the worlds of the Empire, someone  _ important  _ \- was crumpled against the floor, no longer moving.

Anakin stood a few steps away, panting, fists clenching and unclenching, tasting bile in the back of his mouth and he had killed people before - more than he could count, really - but he’d never…

Never felt so  _ satisfied  _ about it.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, quietly, from behind him, and this would… get Anakin in trouble, most likely. They weren’t supposed to just - just murder representatives from Emperial worlds. That kind of thing was frowned upon, generally. 

“Why did…?” Obi-Wan took a step forward, eyes on the dead man, still feeling so distant in the Force. “What were you thinking, you--”

“I’m not him,” Anakin cut in, the anger in his mind burning off enough for him to recognize it’s source. He’d thought about it, more than once, but he wasn’t - he wasn’t the same. “I wouldn’t ever…” He jerked a hand out to the side. 

Obi-Wan shifted to look at him, but his gaze was distant, his eyes unfocused. “You know,” he said, quietly.

“Yes.” Anakin had known, known the first time he slipped into Obi-Wan’s bunk, known the first time they’d touched with any kind of intention behind it, known for years. “And I’m not him.” 

Obi-Wan blinked as a pair of guards stepped around the corner. They’d spot the body. Anakin wasn’t sure, entirely, what they’d do about it. He wasn’t sure he cared. Not when Obi-Wan nodded and said, “I know.”

And Anakin had a jarring moment of realizing that he’d happily slaughter everyone else inside the Palace’s walls, as long as it meant no one made Obi-Wan feel cold and hurt and afraid, ever again. He shivered, the realization barely having time to settle before the guards were there, before Anakin found that he was to be punished, before he realized what that would entail, before he watched Obi-Wan writhe under the Emperor’s Force lightning and--

And Anakin swore so many promises to himself that day. It would be more long years before he managed to keep them all.   



	6. Mirror!AU AU of the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt (Through a Glass, Darkly). AU of the ending where the swapped Anakins could not go back.

In the end, Palpatine caught up with Anakin and Obi-Wan before they ever managed to find a dark mirror beneath the Temple. In the end, Anakin decided not to make the same foolish mistake twice. In the end, he stood over Emperor’s body, panting hard and swaying on his feet, and Obi-Wan stepped up beside him, looking down, eyes wide and stunned.

“You killed him,” Obi-Wan said, as though he could not quite believe it, and--

And Anakin felt… strange inside. Good. Satisfied. Palpatine had begged, at the last, and Anakin had ignored him, remembering Obi-Wan’s body, wracked by Force lightning. He looked down at the lightsaber in his hand and slowly clipped it to his belt. “I did,” he said, and Obi-Wan looked up at him, expression open, stunned,  _ grateful _ .

Anakin felt half-disconnected from all that was happening. His heart was still racing, and he did not think, much, about sliding his hand along Obi-Wan’s jaw, bringing him close, and kissing him. “For you,” he said, against Obi-Wan’s mouth, and Obi-Wan gripped him tighter.

It was some time before they thought to resume their search, and even when they did… they found nothing.

#

Obi-Wan searched beneath the Temple for hours - for so long that eventually Shadow protested and all but dragged him out again, insisting that he eat and sleep. They were interrupted upon exiting the catacombs by a delegation from the Senate, led by Palpatine, and everything that happened next seemed dreamlike, vague and hazy.

It ended with Palpatine dead on the ground, though, Shadow smiling grimly over his handiwork, looking over at Obi-Wan with his expression blazing. And Obi-Wan… might have protested, but he was exhausted and heartsick and, anyway, Palpatine had been the man responsible for millions - perhaps billions - of deaths.

He said as much to the Senate, when they were called in for emergency hearings. It was days, before they ever managed to reach the Temple again, much less resume a search beneath it.

#

Anakin’s gut jerk reaction was to run to the rebels, after they killed Palpatine. Obi-Wan sighed at the suggestion and pointed out that would prevent them from searching the lower levels of the Temple.

And so they did not go, they stayed on Coruscant and Anakin, thoughts buzzing and surging along, wanting to make this world better in some way, suggested that Obi-Wan take over as Emperor. Better him than  _ anyone  _ else in this terrible, broken place.

Besides, he thought, through a vague haze of exhaustion, if Obi-Wan were in charge, it would make it easier for them to search wherever they wanted. And - and when Anakin found a way home - and he would - Obi-Wan would be safe from his double, if the other Anakin wished him ill for the death of Palpatine.

The Emperor had all the protections possible, after all.

#

Shadow watched the meetings that led to the end of the war with an expression of supreme boredom. Obi-Wan supposed that he could not fault Shadow for that. After all, they were not in his world; they’d not been fighting his war.

He played along, when people called him General Skywalker, though. And he stayed at Obi-Wan’s side, scowling, sometimes, at the people who spoke with him. And he was there, in Obi-Wan’s room, when Grievous attempted a final attack.

He lost a leg, in the fight that followed, taking a blow for Obi-Wan and - and the war really felt like it ended, for Obi-Wan, when he carved Grievous to pieces of broken metal and barely functioning organics.

He left the pile of trash behind, pulling Shadow into his arms, and bearing him to the healing wing without thought.

#

There was no dark mirror beneath the Temple. Anakin was forced to admit it, eventually. The full powers of the Emperor’s wishes found them nothing, and that meant… well. There was nothing to find. Not that would help them, anyway.

He haunted the lower levels himself, sure that if he just looked a little closer he would find… some hidden room. Some way,  _ something _ \--

He stopped his restless search the evening he returned late to the palace to find a sense of foreboding in the air. A prickle ran up his spine, even before he heard a soft, pained sound, and the noise of flesh hitting flesh and--

And Anakin did not know who the people in Obi-Wan’s quarters were; he cared only that they had him on the ground, a blaster trained to his forehead and - and whoever they were, they had not anticipated Anakin appearing before them.

He clicked his lightsaber off, afterwards, standing in the midst of their scattered forms, barely breathing hard. He turned, dismissing them, and fell by Obi-Wan’s side. “It’s alright,” he said, hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, his chest, checking the severity of the wounds he bore, “it’s alright, it’s over.”

And Obi-Wan curled an arm around his neck, pulled him down, kissed his mouth and - and they had not exchanged such affection, not since Palpatine fell.

Anakin fell into it, a thousand wants surging through him, and he was not thinking when he stood, lifting Obi-Wan along, or when he walked from the room, barking an absent order to the guards only  _ just  _ appeared in the hall to clean up the mess left behind.

He brought Obi-Wan to clean quarters and - and they spoke little, moving together desperately, clinging, holding on, and after, Anakin said, “I’m sorry, I should have been here.”

Obi-Wan brushed his hair back, shaking his head. He said, “I understand. You want to go back to--”

“I want to stay here,” Anakin said, face hidden against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the shameful truth slipping out of him. He lay sprawled across Obi-Wan’s body, bare skin all spread out for him to touch, and - and he rasped, “I don’t want to go anywhere that isn’t by your side.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers curled in his hair, his breath held for a moment. And then Obi-Wan nodded, and said, “Then stay.”

#

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan told Shadow one morning, weeks and weeks into their search for a way to get him home. Shadow was sitting across from him - already up for the morning - and tinkering with the mechanical leg he’d been given.

Shadow looked across at him, brow furrowed, and asked, “What are you sorry for?”

Obi-Wan sighed and sat up. Shadow’s nightmares had been particularly bad the previous night. Neither of them had slept much. He rubbed his face and said, “That I can’t get you home. Back to your Obi-Wan.”

Shadow hesitated for a moment, expression going distant. He set down his tools and stood. He said, “I miss him. Every day.”

Obi-Wan looked to the side. He missed Anakin, as well, though he knew it was - was different. They had been many things to one another, but not lovers. He had lost a friend, his dearest friend, but-- “I know,” he said.

“But I would miss you,” Shadow continued, reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s jaw, to tilt his face up. “If I were to go back now. I’d miss you.”

Obi-Wan blinked up at him, chest aching. He’d grown used to Shadow, as well. He’d gotten used to showing him new aspects of the Force, to easing him through his nightmares, even - even to his affections, which grew harder to rebuff each time.

Obi-Wan swallowed, cutting his gaze to the side. He said, “I know it’s different--”

“It’s not,” Shadow said, bending so he could put his other hand on the bed, so they were ever so close to one another. “Not at all, really. I love you just as I love him, you know.”

And Obi-Wan shivered, for - for he had not known, he’d thought he was only a convenient replacement, the next best thing, and--- “Sh,” Shadow said, so close to him, words murmured against his mouth, “let me show you.”


	7. Prime!Obikin, discussing their relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt (Through a Glass, Darkly) regarding whether or not the Prime boys try to hide their relationship or not.

Anakin had not considered - truly - what anyone else would think about the shift in his relationship with Obi-Wan. Not while the shift was happening. But by the time they ran out of steam, collapsed amidst sheets that were tangled, sweetly exhausted, considerations began to creep in.

He trailed his fingers across the back of Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and Obi-Wan murmured, softly, “What is it that worries you?”

Anakin’s chest ached at the easy way Obi-Wan just  _ knew _ . He tried to think of a way to distill his current worries all down into words. The concerns had sprung up so quickly. He knew that - that physical relationships were not so much against the Code. Force, Master Mundi had more wives than Anakin could keep track of, but.

But there were those who disapproved of such things. 

Obi-Wan had never spoken ill of the practice, but he’d also never so much as taken a lover. There was a part of Anakin that reflexively wanted to hide what they had, to keep it close and secret, so no one might try to take it--

But that emotion had a strange, familiar feeling to it, something he recognized from his recent sojourn into the other world. He shuddered, and said, finally, “I was just thinking about Master Windu’s face when he discovers that I’ve despoiled you.”

Obi-Wan snorted a laugh. “Is that what you did?” he asked, stretching a bit against Anakin’s side. He pushed up on his arm, enough to look down at Anakin, his gaze warm. “Don’t deflect, Anakin. You’re very worried.”

He sighed, throwing an arm over his face. In his gut, there was still the tempting urge to just… hoard all this away. It was only the warning memories from the other realm that held back the desire. “I just - will the Council be angry?”

“They’ll be concerned,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up fully, his voice calm and sure. “If we - continue, if this is not--”

Anakin lurched upright as well, sudden concern flaring inside his head. “What do you mean?” he interrupted, because the idea that he might have gotten all of this, only for it to turn out it was just for one night - well, alright, several days - was--

“Peace, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, leaning against his shoulder. “I merely did not want to assume that you still wanted--”

“That’s not going to change,” Anakin had to pull him close, had to kiss him again, and when they broke apart Obi-Wan looked deliciously flushed.

Obi-Wan said, raspy, “Then they will be concerned. They ever are. It’s - physical communion - makes it more difficult to not form inappropriate attachments.” It was a speech Anakin had heard before, and one he’d been prone to dismissing, in the past.

But.

But he’d learned so much, in that other world. He did not want to trip and slip his way into Darkness. He felt so much of it within himself, already. He nodded. “I know. I understand that. I’ve been - I wanted to talk to you about attachment, anyway.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah.” Anakin was beginning to believe he may have  _ already  _ had a few issues in that regard, existing long before he’d taken Obi-Wan to bed. He wanted to do better. Needed to do better. But for the moment, he was exhausted. He sank back to the mattress, pulling Obi-Wan along. “In the morning.”

He felt Obi-Wan’s mouth curl against his shoulder. “It is morning.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “In the afternoon, then,” he said, and pulled Obi-Wan a little closer.

(In the end, Anakin would never have been able to predict Master Windu’s response. No matter what he had suspected, he never would have anticipated Windu sighing, turning to Master Billaba, and handing over a handful of credits.)


	8. Codywan. Rope play/bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written because I was reminded of Obi-Wan mentioning to Cody that he'd been tied to a pole during the first battle of Geonosis and that Cody responded by thinking that sounded like a good time SO. Explicit. Bondage. Feelings.
> 
> (Make Obi-Wan sleep by tying him to the bed and wearing him out 2020)

They’d been dug in on Burthmoen for almost five weeks by the time Cody snapped. In his defense, they’d been under near constant attack, they’d suffered heavy casualties, and back-up seemed to be a rumor; a lot of people had heard stories about it, but no one had seen it.

Burthmoen was a terrible planet to begin with; the temperatures rarely got above freezing and the whole place smelled sour. Conditions were not improved down in the caves where they’d taken temporary shelter both from the cold and the Force damned clankers.

There wasn’t enough room in the kriffing caves. They were all narrow passages and small… well, Cody supposed you could call the spaces rooms. Some of them had doors, anyway, left behind by prior occupants. They’d unloaded gear as well as they could, put up bunks, and done their best to settle in for a few hours of down time.

Cody had taken it upon himself to bunk in the small room - one of the few areas with doors - where Obi-Wan had been sent after a brief check by Thread. The medic was up to his elbows in wounded troopers and had - after slapping an insufficient bacta patch on the wound on Obi-Wan’s side - ordered Cody to keep him still for at least a few hours.

It would have been nice if Obi-Wan showed any willingness at all to make it easy for Cody to follow that directive, but he’d barely been in the room before he was trying to leave again, sighing and shifting to rise off of the single bunk in the room.

Cody, who’d leaned against the door and stretched out his legs, didn’t even glance up from cleaning his blaster when he said, “Don’t even think about it. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I don’t need to rest,” Obi-Wan lied, as though Cody hadn’t  _ seen  _ the state of his ribs, as though Cody didn’t know that it had been days since he got his head down. He sat up, breath hissing out, and  _ Cody  _ felt the pain of it, inside his chest, even though he wasn’t hurt. His throat closed for a second.

“Yes, you do.” He set his blaster to the side; he couldn’t concentrate on it, anyway, and frowned across at Obi-Wan, who ignored him and swung his legs off of the bunk. Cody narrowed his eyes and said, not even thinking about it, “If you don’t stay in that bunk, I’m going to kriffing tie you to it.”

He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his brain catching up with them as they were spoken. It didn’t help that Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide. That his cheeks tinged  _ pink _ , like he was - was thinking the same exact things Cody suddenly was.

They’d - they had  _ something _ . Cody didn’t know what to call it, exactly, besides the only thing that was keeping him from going crazy with each day the war dragged on. Knowing that he might be able to snag a kiss from Obi-Wan in passing, that, sometimes, if they were lucky, they might get two clicks to themselves, was… all he really had to look forward to.

They had something.

But they didn’t - he’d never - well, Cody couldn’t say he’d never  _ thought  _ about tying Obi-Wan to something. He’d been thinking about that, off and on, since he found out how Obi-Wan spent his time on Geonosis during the first battle. But...

Obi-Wan looked to the side, still flushed, and said, “You’re very funny,” his tone pitched soft and amused, trying to give them both an out. He cleared his throat, rubbed his hands down his thighs. “But I’m--”

“I’m not joking,” Cody said, half sure he was losing his mind. He was tired and worn thin and his mouth seemed to have completely escaped his control. Obi-Wan’s gaze snapped back to him. Cody heard his breath catch. The air in the room seemed hotter, all at once, burning in Cody’s lungs.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan said, head cocking to the side, something curious in his expression as he purposely pushed the blankets to the side.

Cody blew out a breath, reaching for his bag and pushing to his feet. Obi-Wan watched him approach, breath shallow and eyes wide, and Cody had a coil of rope in hand by the time he reached the bunk. He stood in front of Obi-Wan, half in his armor still, thoughts going off like fireworks inside his brain, and asked, “Are you going to behave?”

Obi-Wan stared up at him, all bare skin smeared here and there with dirt and blood, the bacta patch shiny on his side, and Cody wanted to - to - 

“Probably not,” Obi-Wan said, with a sharp little smile. “I often--oh!”

His skin felt very warm under Cody’s palm, when Cody put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. And Cody waited for Obi-Wan to push him back, to scowl at him, to give him a shove. He sprawled back, instead, pulse racing in his throat when Cody dropped the rope by his hip, reached down, and grabbed one of his arms.

He could feel Obi-Wan’s blood, racing under his skin. He was alive. They were both alive, somehow, and alone in this awful place, and Cody rasped, “You sure?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, twisting his wrist a little, considering, in Cody’s grip. He made no effort to tear himself free, though Cody knew he could, knew very well that Obi-Wan could throw him across the room, if he wanted to. Obi-Wan wetted his bottom lip, and said, “Yes.”

Cody swore, under his breath, the heat under his skin flaring up, his blacks abruptly far too tight. He shifted his weight, stradling Obi-Wan to keep him on the kriffing bunk, dragging his arm up and reaching for the rope and--

And he kept waiting to be told  _ no _ or  _ stop  _ or  _ what the kriff do you think you’re doing _ \--

But Obi-Wan just - just lay there, breathing fast while Cody used knots he’d learned to secure prisoners to lash his arm to the bunk. Obi-Wan tugged on the rope, when Cody finished, and made a little sound, dark and considering. He said, his voice a throaty rasp that made Cody’s cock ache, “Very thorough.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Cody said, without thinking, and Obi-Wan groaned, like - like that was what he wanted. He reached up, grabbing at the front of Cody’s blacks with his free hand, trying to pull Cody down, and Cody seized his wrist, squeezing like a warning.

It was interesting, the way that made Obi-Wan’s breath punch out, the way his eyes went distant. So much of this was… so very interesting. Cody wanted to explore all possible applications of this side of Obi-Wan. But first, he wanted to pull Obi-Wan’s arm into place and coil the rope around his wrist and then shift back, to look at his handiwork.

Obi-Wan’s wrists were over his head, his elbows flared to the side, and - and he was breathing, fast and shallow, all bare skin and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Cody looked at him, aching, and hoped, vaguely, that no one would try the door.

He trailed his fingers down Obi-Wan’s arm, feeling him shiver, watching goosebumps rise across his skin, and Obi-Wan rasped, “You know, I’m really not feeling very tired at all right now.”

Cody snorted, looking down Obi-Wan’s chest, to the waistline of his slacks. He could see the line of Obi-Wan’s erection, straining against the front of the fabric, and, oh. Cody shifted, needing to pull his blacks off, tossing the shirt to the side, not caring where it landed, he just needed them  _ off _ , so he could curl over Obi-Wan, kiss his mouth, realizing he could touch everywhere, wherever he wanted.

Obi-Wan always had something he needed to do. Some responsibility or the other pulling on him. When they stole moments, they were always brief. Touches here and there. Cody barely ever got to put hands on Obi-Wan and never in just the way he wanted.

Until right then.

He swallowed the sounds Obi-Wan made, careful to keep his weight up, worried, still, about the damage to Obi-Wan’s ribs. But, Force, there was a part of him that wanted to do this again, when Obi-Wan was well, that wanted to be able to push him into the mattress, cover him, block out the entire rest of the galaxy.

But he couldn’t do that, not at the moment. That was alright. He had other things he wanted to do, shifting down Obi-Wan’s body, listening to him pull at the ropes around his wrists, listening to him whine when Cody bent his head. Obi-Wan liked to touch his head, when Cody did this. But all he could do was gasp and squirm and  _ take it _ .

Cody wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, afterwards, breathing hard and aching with sharp hungers. Obi-Wan looked wrung out, flushed down his chest and up his arms, and Cody wanted to - to keep going, but Obi-Wan was exhausted. And Cody thought the fight had gone out of him. He swallowed, making to shift, and Obi-Wan made a noise of protest, wrapping his legs around Cody’s waist to pin him in place.

“Where’re you going?” Obi-Wan panted, blinking up at him, dazedly.

“I’m going to let you rest,” Cody said, shaking his head. He ahced, but he could - could handle that on his own. He had two hands, they both worked, and more than enough imagery to get him there, he didn’t need--

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan said, tightening his grip, pulling Cody down against him. “Don’t, I want--”

Cody groaned, and perhaps a better man would have refused. Perhaps a better man would have threatened to tie his legs down too, and--

And that thought decided Cody, as much as anything, because he could barely think past the haze of want it sent through him. He swore, falling forward to kiss Obi-Wan, pushing one of his legs to the side, looking around for his bag. Obi-Wan almost hit him in the head with it, lifting it with the Force, and Cody grabbed it, too far gone to be anything but grateful.

He grabbed the lubricant - he’d packed it more out of blind hope than anything else, and was terribly grateful he had - and accidentally spilled half of it across his hands and  _ didn’t care _ , not with Obi-Wan trying to squirm around under him, the way he always did.

Except he couldn’t  _ go anywhere _ . Cody could put a hand to hold him in place and the ropes did the rest, letting Cody take his time, letting him stare down, enraptured, at the movement of his fingers, at the way the smallest shift made Obi-Wan turn his face to the side, trying to muffle the sounds he was making.

Cody wanted to keep him just like he was for hours. Wanted to see how far he could make the flush spread down Obi-Wan’s chest. But there was no time for that, and he knew it. And Obi-Wan was hurt and--

And he wasn’t going to last, anyway.

He really wasn’t going to last, he realized, as he shifted, pulling Obi-Wan closer and tilting his hips, pushing into him, because he was used to - to barely being able to see Obi-Wan’s face when they stole moments. He was used to Obi-Wan, composed even in the midst of pleasure, flashing him grins, murmuring soft, silken words.

All the words seemed to have been pulled away from him. He was gasping, expression all open and awed for Cody. And there wasn’t much Cody wouldn’t have given to keep him looking like that, to be able to hear the sounds he made, all desperate and fragile, precious.

Cody stared at him, hungry for every shift in his expression, every sound he made, the way he pulled and twisted at the bonds around his wrists, the way he jumped when Cody touched his cock again, wanting to feel Obi-Wan let go, just like he was, held in place, anchored, and--

And it was enough to pull Cody over the edge, when it happened, leaving him breathing hard and half-dizzy. 


	9. Mirror!AU/agaptfaa!AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt. Request to have the Mirror!Team meet the agaptfaa!Team

Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but he didn’t need to be  _ entirely sure  _ to know that he didn’t like it. He’d been… looking at a device brought up from the lower levels of the temple one moment and the next he’d been in a dark hallway and some kind of reptilian creature had been trying to kill him. 

He could still fight well enough - despite what Anakin’s current raging protective streak would suggest - but he hadn’t had to, because someone with a red lightsaber had struck down the creature before it could leap upon Obi-Wan’s back.

And then Obi-Wan had found himself staring across at an Anakin with blood red eyes, an Anakin who frowned over at him and smelled… wrong. Incorrect. So jarringly that Obi-Wan had jerked away from him, reaching for his bond with Anakin and finding it  _ gone _ .

“What’s going on?” he demanded, breathing hard, the twins moving and shifting in sudden agitation. They had a connection to Anakin, as well. He wondered if they felt the abrupt loss, and ached.

The wrong Anakin in front of him jerked a hand, dismissive, looking Obi-Wan up and down. His eyes widened as he looked and he took a step forward. “Don’t,” Obi-Wan snapped, putting a hand up. “Don’t come any closer.”

The wrong Anakin snapped his eyes up, frowned, and said, finally, “I’m not going to hurt you. Relax. I have some idea about what’s happened.”

#

Obi-Wan listened to a story that sounded, frankly, ridiculous. But he couldn’t argue with the fact that the Anakin before him was not his Anakin, was instead almost a shadow of him, so he nodded and sighed. He was in a parallel world. Fine, of course he was. It would happen at the least convenient time.

“You’re pregnant,” the shadow said, after he finished explaining.

Obi-Wan cut him a glance, to find himself being stared at, openly. Consideringly. “Yes?”

Shadow shifted closer to him, eyes dark. “It’s mine?”

Obi-Wan frowned at him. “They’re my Anakin’s,” he said, sharply, because he did not want this Shadow, with his strange scent, getting any ideas. Shadow took another step forward, and Obi-Wan took one back.

“How?” Shadow asked.

Obi-Wan cut him a sharp look. “The usual way,” he said, and got a puzzled look for his trouble, but he was not going to explain the mechanics of it to anyone, much less someone wearing Anakin’s face.

“You wanted children?” Shadow asked, which wasn’t what Obi-Wan had expected, and for a moment he was distracted with considering the answer.

He had not ever thought about it, until recently. There’d been no time to consider it. But - but he found himself looking forward to their birth, so… He shrugged. “Yes.” Shadow nodded, gaze still considering and sharp, and Obi-Wan hoped, fleetingly, that they’d find a way to get him back home quickly.

#

Obi-Wan was used to the twins moving. They did so almost constantly, as though they were anxious to be born. He was also getting used to the false contractions, but they still caught him by surprise, sometimes.

He bit back a noise when one hit, going still over the text he was supposed to be reading, and Shadow stiffened across from him, demanding, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. The pain was not so severe, really. Just… strange and deep. 

“What happened?” Shadow demanded, coming around the table towards him, and, he may not have been Anakin, but they both looked the same way when they were worried. 

Obi-Wan flashed him a small smile. He’d gotten used to Shadow over the past few days. He was not… so bad, truly, even if he smelled completely wrong. “Nothing serious. I’m just…” He waved a hand at his stomach. “It’s going to be soon.” He shrugged.

Shadow straightened, alarm ringing out through his emotions. “What?” he said. “Now?”

Obi-Wan snorted a laugh at him, shaking his head. “Not right now, relax.” Shadow looked as though he did not quite believe Obi-Wan, staring at him as though he might be a bomb about to go off, an expression that never quite left his eyes, not in the entire time it took for them to find a way to send Obi-Wan back.


End file.
